


tank tops and flip flops

by donutwolf



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body Worship, Chubby Kink, Chubby Lance, Domestic Fluff, Exhibitionism, Gardens & Gardening, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Teasing, Voyeurism, Weight Gain, Wet Clothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 20:51:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12197196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutwolf/pseuds/donutwolf
Summary: There's nothing more important than gardening--and even that's not so important when your boyfriend's trying to drive you mad with his short shorts and tight tops and endlessly teasing ways.





	tank tops and flip flops

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [a text post](https://mommavanillabear.tumblr.com/post/165323269631/ive-heard-plenty-of-head-canons-about-shiro-being) and some [gorgeous fanart](https://swbarainc.tumblr.com/post/165674152199/inspired-by-the-post-about-lance-with-thick) by swbarainc, but mostly just an excuse for me to write soft, squishy Lance with his two loving boyfriends.

It’s hard to say  _ whose  _ garden it really was. From the beginning, it was clear that they would all care for it and take care of it together, but it didn’t take long for a pattern to emerge.

Shiro was the one who made plans in the spring, selecting the right strains of tomatoes, growing the seedlings and drawing up the plans for the vegetable patch. They all participated in the process, of course, but Shiro was the architect, the mastermind behind the neat lines and straight rows. Lance, on the other hand, loved to watch the little green leaves grow and expand, peas and beans climbing higher as the summer wore on. He tended to the banks and rows during the hottest months of the summer, dancing around the garden in his flip flops and tank tops, his chubby flesh glowing in the light of the sun. And finally, when their little garden bore fruit in the fall, it was Hunk who plucked the ripe vegetables off the ground, processing the fruits of their labor and turning them into hearty meals, jams and pickles, pies and pastries. 

It was a natural cycle, changing of the guard as the seasons passed; they all shared the hobby, but depending of the season, one of them would be most likely to be found in the garden, turning the ground or picking berries off the bushes. Or in Lance’s case, weeding the rows of herbs in the kitchen plot, pitching up support beams for the tallest plants while singing to a tune from his old iPod.

The sun was beating down hard that day; it had been sweltering hot for the whole month of July, and the plants in their garden were drooping by the end of the day, thirsty and dry. No rain came from the cloudless sky, so it was a daily occurrence to find Lance with the hose in his hand, watering the needy plants in just his old cut-offs and a flimsy tank. And almost as daily were the two pairs of eyes that watched him from the back porch of their house. 

Shiro didn’t move when he heard the screen door creak open and Hunk came out. He kept his eyes trained on Lance’s form, not wanting to miss anything, drinking in the swivel of his hips as Lance jammed his way from plant to plant, the sprays of water making the air glitter around him. It was like watching a water sprite, Shiro had decided, after spending hours studying the sight. But he’d never tell Lance that--he wasn’t sure Lance would appreciate the fairy reference.

The floorboards shifted under Hunk’s weight as he walked over to the side table, and there was a clink of ice and glass, a slosh of liquid being poured. Soon a tall glass of sweet tea appeared in Shiro’s line of sight, the sides of it already sweating from the heat.

“Thought you might be thirsty,” Hunk said, and Shiro could hear the grin in his voice. He probably should feel some shame for getting caught staring, but then Hunk knew exactly what was going through his head; when Shiro glanced at him, his gaze was aimed at the same target, his grin softening to a warm, wistful smile. 

“It’s a hot day,” Shiro said, like he hadn’t caught the joke, then took a sip of the tea. It was carefully brewed, and generously sweetened--just how he liked it. “Thank you.”

Hunk’s eyes met his briefly, and Shiro turned to be kissed, letting Hunk taste the sweetness off his lips. “No problem,” Hunk said, still smiling as he pulled back. 

But it was a short distraction, and soon their eyes returned to the alluring sight of their boyfriend working in the garden. Hunk crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the pillar supporting the porch’s roof. “He really should be illegal,” he mused after a moment.

Shiro hummed in agreement. “Those  _ shorts _ should be illegal,” he added after a moment. “Why does he still wear them?”

Hunk snorted. “You know  _ why _ ,” he said, and Shiro blushed. “He loves a good show just as much as you do.”

“Hey, you’re here too,” he protested, but it was a weak comeback and he knew it; he still hadn’t perfected that easy style of teasing his two boyfriends shared between them, where their jabs and taunts were filled with mutual adoration, the casual brush of their shoulders a wordless act of reassurance. Where Hunk and Lance shared so much history, and he was still learning to let his guard down.

But Hunk just chuckled, patting him on the back. “That I am.” His big, calloused hand traveled down the length of Shiro’s back, and settled around his waist. Hunk gave him a squeeze, then lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Never said I wasn’t a fan as well.” 

They exchanged a look--both of them grinned, then bursting out laughing. 

“Are you guys playing peeping tom again?”

Lance had lowered the headphones off his ears, and was glaring at them with one hand on his hip; of course, he’d heard them.

“Is it really peeping if we’re not even trying to hide it?” Hunk shot back.

Lance rolled his eyes. “Fine,  _ voyeurism _ then,” he conceded with a deep sigh. “It’s still distracting.” His eyes shifted from Hunk to Shiro, and--he winked. Shiro swallowed, a shiver of excitement running down his spine as Lance flashed him a smirk, then cocked his chin up in challenge before turning his attention back to his plants. 

“‘Distracting’, he says.  _ He’s  _ distracting, oh my  _ god, _ ” Hunk muttered to himself as Lance bent over to reach the other side of the tomatoes, giving them a nice view of his chunky ass and thighs. “Who’s the real voyeurist here?”

_ Me _ , Shiro thought, but out loud he said, “I think this makes him an  _ exhibitionist _ , not a voyeurist.” 

Hunk’s cooking had caught up with Lance pretty soon after they’d bought the house. Or maybe it was the double effect of working at a restaurant, constantly surrounded with food-- _ Hunk’s _ food, as he was the sous chef where Lance managered. College had already softened his lanky form to a soft belly and rounder thighs, but settling down into a steady life had worked wonders on his figure.

Now Lance carried his weight on his thighs and ass, on the proud curves of his hips. Shiro had never realized how pleasing that could be, to sink his fingers into pliant flesh, to press against plush skin, but then he’d met Hunk--he’d met  _ them. _ It had been a revelation, and with each new inch on Lance’s growing thighs, in his ever rounding bubble butt, Shiro found new depths to fall to.

“ _ Jesus _ . Illegal.” 

Hunk kept on his muttering, but even he fell silent when Lance finished up his work and straightened up. He didn’t give even a cursory look to his audience as he tilted his head up towards the sun, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. He unhooked the headphones from around his neck and tossed them on the ground with his iPod, and--Shiro could see where this was going. The hose was still running, and this was  _ Lance _ , so it came as no surprise when Lance turned the tip of the hose toward himself, spritzing his skin with the cool water. 

Hunk let out a curse. “ _ This fucking guy _ ...”

Lance let the water drench him completely, clothes and all, before turning the hose off and dropping it on the grass. He shook his head like a dog, casting droplets on the ground, but Shiro’s eyes were glued on his soft middle and the ripples that crossed his skin when he moved. The thin summer top Lance had on looked almost sheer now that it was wet. It stuck to his every roll and curve like second skin, and--fuck, Shiro was starting to agree with Hunk. 

“What?” Lance asked, propping his hands on his hips and not even trying to hide his smirk. “Like you wouldn’t take a cold hosing right about now if I offered.”

Hunk snorted out laugh, but Shiro felt his cheeks flush. 

“Oh baby, you can hose me down any time of the day,” Hunk called back. 

“I know.” 

But he didn’t take up the hose as he walked toward them; he didn’t have to--he already had them under his thumb, caught in his lures and ready to be reeled in. Shiro could only stare as Lance swaggered his way to the porch, taking the steps with measured patience, allowing them time to savor the sight.

Because Lance was a fucking  _ vision _ .

That water-slick top revealed everything and nothing, painting the softness of Lance’s chest and belly in plain view while keeping the most intricate details hidden. And what  _ was _ revealed of his skin--his ample thighs quivering when he walked, the cast of the sunlight playing on his dimpled skin--drove Shiro crazy with lust, his fingers itching to rip that wet cloth off. He needed to feel that sun drenched flesh in his hands; he wanted to lick that water off Lance’s skin, wet his palm on his slick thighs--

Shiro bit his lip to focus as Lance reached the top level, coming to a stop between them. 

“Show-off,” Hunk ground out, his voice sounding unusually gruff. 

“Fucking tease,” Shiro agreed just as tightly.

Lance just glanced at him, still smirking, before turning to Hunk and wrapping his arms around him. “You’re gonna get your hosing alright,” he said quietly, already leaning in to kiss him. Hunk’s arms were on his waist in seconds, not wasting the opportunity to steal a squeeze; his reply was too quiet to be heard, but Lance’s pleased laughter told Shiro everything he needed to know.

It felt almost illicit to stare at Lance’s ass while he shared a moment with Hunk, but--there it was. The old jeans cutoffs Lance wore while gardening were truly an eyecatcher. Maybe once they’d been a beach day staple, but if he’d worn them in public now, they would’ve been thrown off the beach for indecency. They were  _ that  _ tight, that  _ small _ , pinching the squish on Lance’s waist and leaving the half moons of his generous buttocks hanging free. There was so much to grab there, Shiro didn’t know where to begin. 

But before he could join in, Lance turned to look at him over his shoulder. His lips parted like he was about to say something, but he didn’t; instead, his mouth curled into a smile, and Shiro felt his cheeks grow hot under the weight of his gaze. Lance moved closer, his hand reaching out--

He grabbed the glass of sweet tea from Shiro’s hand and brought to his lips. He didn’t ask for permission, only quirked his brow before tipping the glass back and taking a long, long drink. 

And that was it. Shiro closed the distance between them in one step, crowding up against Lance, grabbing a hold of his love handles and yanking him against himself. Lance let out a gasp and lowered his drink, but Shiro didn’t give him a chance to speak. His mouth captured Lance’s sweet lips in a kiss, finally getting to express himself in a way that suited him best.

“Sorry for stealing your drink,” Lance said when they broke apart; he sounded breathless, a little shaken, but his leer was intact when he added, “I’ll pour you a new one if you’re that thirsty...” 

“It’s not the drink I’m thirsty for,” Shiro replied. 

Lance jumped when Shiro’s hands slipped down to squeeze his hips, fingers dragging at the sides of his big thighs; he found purchase on Lance’s thick ass, and Shiro  _ growled _ , pulling Lance flush against himself. He didn’t care about getting wet when he kissed Lance hard on the lips--all he wanted was to feel that squish against himself. 

“ _ Damn _ , dude. Now you’re acting just plain  _ hungry _ .”

Despite his flushed cheeks and red lips, Lance was still smirking; he knew exactly who was leading the show here. It was  _ infuriating, _ but--

Shiro forced himself to relax. He pulled in a breath and looked up, tilting his head to look around Lance. “Hunk?” 

Hunk’s eyes darted up when he heard his name called. “Huh?” He looked a bit dazed, one hand holding onto the wet patch Lance had left on his shirt; he’d clearly been enjoying his end of the show, and--Shiro really couldn’t blame him. 

“A little help?”

He didn’t need to ask twice. Hunk blinked, then lurched forward, plucking the glass from Lance’s hand and setting it to safety before settling behind him. His arms wound around Lance’s, and he squeezed at his shoulders, his biceps, them kissed his neck before looking up to Shiro for instructions. 

“I do the top, you do the button.” 

Hunk’s eyes flew wide in excitement, and he grinned. “Got it.”

Shiro’s gaze slid back to Lance; he raised his brow, as if daring Lance to object. 

“Oh, I get it,” Lance gave him a look and crooned. He was positively squirming between them, too sensitive for the onslaught of four greedy hands groping and caressing his flesh. But that didn’t stop him from still taunting, “If you’re  _ hungry _ , there’s nothing’s better than a bite of the ol’ Lance sandwich, am I right?” 

Shiro’s lips twitched. “You’re impossible,” he said, kissing Lance quiet while he sneaked his fingers under the hem of his clingy top.

“But nothing we couldn’t handle, right?” 

Hunk’s voice called him back to attention. For a moment, Shiro lost his train of thought, the lust that had been pressing him onward cutting off as Hunk’s words registered in his mind. 

He smiled. Yeah, they could handle anything together--even a boyfriend like Lance who loved nothing better than to try and tease his partners to death with his body.

Shiro scoffed softly, shaking his head. “ _ Damn _ right.”

It was quick work for two people to strip Lance free of his clothes. Not that Shiro necessarily wanted to hurry this part. There was something to be said for slowly inching up a wet tank top and revealing the damp skin underneath, but he felt too eager, too needy to linger and tease. Hunk’s big hands were there as soon as he pulled the hem up to bare Lance’s belly; his thick fingers pinched at the roll of pudge above Lance’s cutoffs, then snuck under it to tug at the waistband.

“How did you even get these  _ on? _ ”

Lance chuckled, leaning back against Hunk’s gut. “With luck and sheer willpower.”

“The better question is, how do you still  _ wear _ those if they’re so tight?”

Lance pulled a face at Shiro’s question, but for the first time, he looked a little embarrassed. “They fit fine once I--once I get them on. They just  _ look _ tight.” At that moment, Hunk finally managed to pop the button of Lance’s shorts and his belly plopped out; Lance sighed in relief, blushing as soon as he realized what he’d done. “Okay,  _ fine _ , maybe they’re a bit  _ too _ tight,” he grumbled, “but that’s part of the appeal, the--the  _ look. _ ”

“Can’t say no to that, but--” Hunk paused, tugging at the cutoffs, and Shiro suddenly realized what the problem was. “--I think getting you out of these is gonna be, uh...”

“It’s gonna have to be a two man job,” Shiro blurted out.

Both men turned to look at him, surprised, but Shiro ignored them. He’d been too caught up watching Hunk struggle with the button, caught up in the soft rolls and fold of Lance’s bare waist, but now he focused his efforts on finishing the job. Silently, he guided Lance to lift up his arms and pulled off his top, then framed Lance’s face with his clammy hands and kissed him again.

“It’s gonna take more than just willpower to get these wet jeans down your thighs, baby,” Shiro murmured, brushing his lips over Lance’s cheek. He slipped his hands inside those indecently tight shorts and squeezed Lance’s ass. “But don’t you worry--it’s nothing the two of us can’t handle.”

Lance snorted, but his face was red and his gaze heated, expectant and yearning. Shiro flashed him a grin, then started kissing down his neck, his plump chest, falling onto his knees in front of him; behind Lance, Hunk followed his example and did the same.

At moments like this, Shiro was grateful to own a house with a garden like this--it enriched their lives in so many ways. But more than anything, he was grateful for the tall fences that lined their plot, and gave them the privacy to perv out on their backyard as much as their dirty little hearts desired. Maybe it wasn’t a daily occurrence like Lance and his watering hose, but... almost.

Shiro stole one last moment to admire the view, smoothing his thumbs over the red lines on Lance’s hips; the light made his damp skin glisten like gold, drawing out the curves and valleys of his body with a white lining.  _ Ethereal, _ Shiro thought.

“God, would you hurry the fuck up?” Lance moaned, gripping his shoulders tight and nearly pushing his belly into Shiro’s face. “C’mon, take a bite.”

Shiro grinned. “Don’t tempt me.” He leaned in to nip at Lance’s softness, but didn’t dive in just yet. He wanted to savor this meal, but first--he wanted to make sure it was shared.

“Hunk?”

“Hmm?”

His reply came a bit late, like he was too distracted with Lance’s butt in his face to pay attention, which--again--Shiro couldn’t blame him for.

“Let loose, and don’t spare him.”

He heard Lance give a gasp, but his protests died down when Hunk finished laughing and got to work. Turns out, those shorts weren’t so hard to remove, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> follow @[blackdonuthole](https://blackdonuthole.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for more ridiculous chubby Voltron content.


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